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Published: March 1st 2016
Jon and I ate at Brasserie Petanque, a restaurant near Milhouse. It was delicious! We split Seafood Paella. It was a large, two story restaurant. Our table was lit by candlelight and the server had strategically placed us in the cozy corner of the place as to have some privacy between us. It was raining outside, which made the restaurant even cozier. We were planning on eating quick and spending the night socializing at the hostel. Dinner for us was catching up, learning new things about each other and laughing, mostly. Time had slipped away from us. I had taken a sip from my drink and looked up. Jon and I had become the last people there. It must have been around 1 or 1:30 in the morning and we left. Hand-in-hand, we ran through the drizzling rain back to our hostel.
Something was different though compared to when we left. It had appeared that all the people that had been hanging inside of the hostel’s common area was outside now. Even down the street I heard chatter, laughter and clinks of beer cans. Something fun was a brew. Jon and I were met by our Israeli friends,
Eli and Sam, we had met earlier.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“We are going out,” Eli said. “There’s a nightclub about 15 minutes away. A bus will arrive soon. You must come with us!” Jon and I looked at each other and looked back at Eli.
“Okay!” Jon and I responded together.
I ran inside to put our names on the list, and Jon ran inside to fetch us two drinks from the bar. Teamwork at its perfection, if you ask me. The bus arrived and we all packed in. The next 15 drive will be forever remembered to me as any pre-party movie montage. Nine out of ten of us were hanging outside of the windows though traffic, bopping, fist pumping and cheering our way to our first Argentinian nightclub experience. Once we got there, our group was escorted to the front of the entrance line. I’m not sure what made this happen, but it sure felt special! From there we spent the night doing what most everyone does at during any Argentinian nightclub experience. We waited in line for everything, took shots, tried our hand in some Spanglish, and
tripped over ourselves when we attempted the tango. The minutes turned to hours and we didn’t get a taxi back to the hostel until 4:30am, very different feeling from the typical 2am shut out in everywhere America.
When we got back to the hostel, our little group had reconvened outside of our room. We spent the next few hours learning about where everyone comes from and why they were traveling. Most of the Israelis had just finished their time in the army, and they were celebrating it by backpacking South America. The two Brazilian sisters were on spring break. The soft-spoken Russian was in search of new tattoo ideas to add to his sleeve collection. Leo, our new friend from France, had just been left heartbroken by his longtime girlfriend and needed to get away and find his self of self again. And the Auzzy, Billy, was doing just the opposite. His search was to find the girls he would make ‘friends,’ although it really appeared he only wanted to ‘make friends’ with Jon. It seemed South America was going to be the saving grace for all these desires. What a magical and eclectic group.
South America could be so versatile?
“I’m getting hot!” Leo exclaimed out of nowhere. “I’m really just so hot, guys. This temperature will kill me.”
“I feel like I’m back in Florida,” I agreed.
“I feel like I haven’t worn a shirt in two days,” Jon said, taking off his shirt.
“You haven’t,” Billy responded, also taking off his shirt.
“Seriously guys. I can’t take it!” Leo shoots up and puts both hands on this head. “The hair, it must go. My hair is keeping me so hot!” He ran into his room and slammed the door.
There was a moment of silence as we all sipped our drinks in awkward.
“So, Sam, what was the army like?” One of the Brazilian girls asked.
“I liked it,” Sam said, “It wa—“
Leo swung open his door, nearly breaking the glass. In his hand he had an electric razor with the wire trailing on the ground behind him. “I got it! Jon, come shave my head!”
Jon took another swig and lied on the floor, “No way, man. You shouldn’t trust me with that responsibility.”
“C’mon man, please.
I’m dying over here.”
“You’re just drunk!” Russian blurted, “Idiot can’t handle fucking liqu—“
“I’ll do it,” I said, standing up. “Can’t be that hard.” I took the last sip of my beer and crushed the can between my fingers. “Give me the damn thing, I got this!”
I lead the way into the restroom, Leo and the rest of the group followed. There we were, seven drunk twenty-somethings crammed into a one person bathroom. Leo was closest to the mirror, to the left of the sink. I was to the right. The rest were behind us watching in silence. I flicked on the razor and the familiar buzzing sound nestled around us. I’m not sure if it was because the top of the head seemed like a good place to start, or that I had seen it done in an episode of “How I Met Your Mother,” but I buzzed from the top of his forehead to the back of his skull in one straight line. His long hair hung on the two sides of the head, with a middle part 2 inches wide.
stopping now, I guess,” Jon shrugged and I went to town. Forty-five minutes later the job was done. The bathroom looked like a hair-bomb exploded in it, the sink appeared the was an animal residing inside. I handed the razor back to Leo’s shocked face and Jon and I waltzed back to our room. "The day begins at midnight, Leo! Enjoy your new bald life!"
And with that, the sun began to rise.
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